


Feeling Disgusting and Broken

by Larry_Klaine_Stylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larry_Klaine_Stylinson/pseuds/Larry_Klaine_Stylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can't sleep one night and decides to go out for a walk, taking back alleys, so as not to get stopped by fans. It turns out, however, that taking alleyways by yourself at night is dangerous, and something happens that could change Harry's life drastically, if he lets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling Disgusting and Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a prompt fill on Tumblr.

It was nearing three in the morning, and Harry had slipped out of the hotel on his own about an hour ago. He couldn't sleep, and he needed to get some fresh air just to clear his mind and help him relax, and he didn't want to wake Louis, because he looked so lovely and peaceful lying next to him in their large bed, so he'd slipped on some of his fancy slippers with tractioned soles and made his way outside.

It was Summer, and even at three in the morning it was quite hot and a bit muggy, and so Harry was a bit sticky feeling, and he was ready to go back to the hotel and take a quick, cool shower and climb into bed and snuggle up to Louis.

He was taking back ways and alleys to get back to the hotel, afraid that if he was out on the main road he'd be found by fans. And he loved the fans, but he had trouble saying no to pictures and things and so if he ran into a little group he'd end up stuck there for hours and he needed to get back and get to sleep because they had a gig tomorrow, and if Louis woke up and Harry wasn't around, he'd be worried.

He was about two blocks away from the hotel, when he heard a strange clattering sound from behind him in the little alleyway he'd just entered. He picked up his pace a little, trying to get out of there. He was large, and he was sure he could fight someone off if he needed to, but he didn't like violence unless he was just goofing off with the boys. He just wanted to get out of there and get back to the hotel.

Just as Harry was thinking that maybe he should take his hands out of his pockets so he could defend himself quickly if need be, he was being grabbed by a large pair of hands. Much larger than his own, in fact, and Harry knew he had rather large hands. But these hands felt meaty and sweaty and like they were up to no good.

And before Harry could register what was happening, he was being thrown to the ground. On the way down, he hit his head on the corner of what he assumed to be a dumpster, and then landed flat on his back with a thwack, and a throbbing in the back of his head.

Harry was able to slowly blink his eyes open, and his vision was a bit blurred, but a large man came into focus. He was tall and wide, and his eyes were small and beady, sunken back into his face like he hadn't slept in a year. There was a seedy grin placed on his face, and a shiver ran down Harry's spine as he looked up at the man looming over him.

The next thing he knew, the man was stepping on him with one foot placed squarely in the center of his chest, holding him there and preventing him from moving as he undid his own belt, and then pulled his trousers and pants down around his knees.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and said quietly, "What are you going to do?"

His voice was scratchier than he'd expected. Almost as if his fall to the ground had somehow scratched his vocal chords up.

"Just stay still, princess. This is going to be fun." The man said, ripping Harry's trousers down and flipping him over onto his stomach.

Harry tried to get up. Tried to move. But his body was paralyzed with fear and pain.

"Please don't." Harry begged, his voice muffled as his face was squished against the cement. He could feel blood dripping down his scalp, soaking his hair, and dripping down his neck. "Please. I'll give you whatever you want. Money, or-"

"Shut it. This is going to be a lot less enjoyable for the both of us if you keep whining like that." The man growled in his ear.

Harry began to cry silent tears then, and the man pulled Harry's boxers down, and shoved himself deep into Harry with no preparation whatsoever. There was no lube. No condom. Nothing.

Harry let out a loud, throat shredding scream, before the man clamped a hand over his mouth, telling him to 'shut it right now', and he thrust in and out of him quickly, a stabbing pain shooting through him with each movement.

More silent tears came, and snot was dripping from his nose, and his whole body ached and screamed in pain, and he couldn't move. Couldn't push the man off of him. Couldn't call Louis. He couldn't do anything but lie there and cry and wait for it to be over.

The man was grunting and groaning and making various other sounds and they all simply made Harry's stomach churn. He bit the inside of his cheek and squeezed his eyes shut tightly and balled his hands into fits and tried to think of something else. Anything else to distract him from what was happening to him. But there was no use. He couldn't block out the sounds. Couldn't block out the pain.

And he certainly, certainly could not block out the feeling of the large man coming inside of him, and then slipping out. He couldn't block out the sound of the man standing up and buckling his belt and hawking and spitting in his general direction and then walking out of the alley and down the street. He couldn't block out the feeling of utter disgust that he felt towards the man.

He couldn't bring himself to get up just yet. His whole body hurt, and there was semen leaking out of him, and he felt utterly disgusting. He felt like a disgrace and he felt ashamed and he felt so much hatred that it physically pained him.

All he wanted to do was be back at the hotel with Louis, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and...Louis. Shit. He couldn't tell Louis about this. He couldn't tell anyone about this.

That brought on a whole new wave of tears, and he cried and cried, until he realized he was face down in a pool of his own tears and the blood from the wound on the back on his head, and then he cried some more because of that fact.

He cried until his eyes were dried out and his chest was heaving and his body was shaking and he felt like he might pass out.

He then took a moment to gather what strength he could muster and he got himself up off the ground. He pulled his trousers back up and he began to limp back to the hotel, his ass flaring with pain every time he moved even the slightest bit. He was pretty sure he was bleeding there, as well. He couldn't imagine that he wasn't. The man had been large and he'd shoved his way in and it was the most painful thing Harry had ever experienced.

He walked slowly, hobbling the whole way, praying that no one would be outside to see him this way. Especially not any young fans. They'd be traumatized.

He finally made it back to the hotel and slipped inside, quickly running up to his and Louis' room and unlocking the door, rushing inside, but being careful not to slam the door shut. He didn't want to wake Louis. He didn't want to have to talk to Louis, and he didn't want Louis to see him like this.

His plan had been to get inside, toss his clothes somewhere Louis wouldn't find them, hop in the shower and try to scrub the disgusting feeling away, and then go to sleep and wake up tomorrow and pretend like nothing had happened.

But the second he stepped out of the hotel hallway and into his and Louis' room, all plans fled from his mind, and he dropped to his knees, and then fell over onto his side, curling up in a ball, which hurt his bum, causing him to wince, and then begin crying yet again.

He cried silently at first, holding back all sound, not wanting to wake Louis or worry him, because then Louis would ask what was wrong, and he didn't want to have to lie to Louis. He'd hate that.

But as he continued to cry it became harder and harder to breathe properly, and suddenly he was taking big gasping breaths, practically hyperventilating, his breaths causing his whole body to convulse and shudder as he let out loud whimpering cries and tried to catch his breath. He covered his mouth with his hand and tried to hold back as much of the sound as he could, but gave up when he heard a faint "Harry?".

He quickly wiped his eyes and nose with the hem of his shirt and attempted to plaster a smile onto his face.

"Yeah, babe?" He asked. And his voice sounded scratchy and hoarse and utterly wrecked from screaming and crying.

"Hazza, what's wrong?" Louis asked, and his voice was closer now. He'd sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed.

"S'nothing. I'm gonna get a shower and get some sleep."

Louis climbed out of bed, walking over to Harry who had managed to sit up, though with quite a bit of pain in his backside.

"It's not nothing, and don't even-" Louis stopped short, gasping loudly. "Harry, what's happened to the back of your head? Your hair's all clumped up with blood."

"Just...Went for a walk and wasn't very careful where I was going." Harry said, making up the lie as he went along. "Ran into a street sign. You know how pesky they can be."

Louis gave him a skeptical look, but nodded, nonetheless, "At least let me take a look at it, will you? It might need a bit of cleaning and a bandage of some sort. Looks pretty nasty, if you ask me."

"Yeah...Alright." Harry agreed warily. "Just...Let me shower first? To get all the dried blood off?"

Louis nodded, climbing back onto the bed and playing with the duvet cover absentmindedly.

Harry closed his eyes, breathing in deeply before trying to stand up. He knew he needed to be careful and look as normal as possible, or else Louis would know something was up.

He placed both his hands on the floor for support and got up onto his feet. A stinging pain shot through him, but he didn't react to it. Stayed stoic. He then began walking to the bathroom. He tried to remember how he walked usually and just emulate that, but that was harder than it seemed when every step you took sent a searing pain through your arse.

He made it halfway to the bathroom before one step sent a particularly painful jolt through him, and he winced, and whimpered softly, stopping in his tracks.

"Harry?" Louis asked, and suddenly, he was right behind him. "There's something wrong and you're not telling me what it is." Louis said, sounding deeply concerned. Nearly pained.

"It's nothing, Lou." Harry smiled at him. "M'fine."

He began trying to walk to the bathroom once more, but he was hobbling more than before, the painful step having taken a lot out of him.

"You're not fine." Louis said sternly. He was silent for a moment, and then, "Harry, what...What's that stain on the back of your trousers?"

"Just...Sat on some dirty old bench, Lou. Don't worry. I just need a shower."

"You're lying to me." Louis said, shaking his head a little. "Please, just tell me what's wrong. I want to help."

Harry began shaking his head furiously, fresh tears spilling from his eyes and running hotly down his cheeks, "I can't tell you! I fucking can't, Louis, so please just bugger off and leave me the hell alone so I can shower!"

Louis flinched away at that, and Harry immediately felt bad. He never raised his voice at Louis, no matter how upset he got. So there was another thing that was fucked up now, and all because he'd decided to go for a walk at some god awful hour of the night, sneaking around in alleyways. He'd been an idiot.

"Louis, I...I'm sorry. I just..I'm tired and I want a shower and some rest. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright, Harry." Louis said, sounding quite defeated. "I just wanted to help..."

"No, Lou, I know." Harry said, turning to face Louis properly and wincing as he did so.

"You're obviously not alright." Louis said softly as he walked back over to their bed. "Just go take your shower."

Harry sighed heavily, making his way into the bathroom where he carefully undressed, wincing each time he moved, and hurting so badly that tears spilled from his eyes when he had to remove his trousers and pants. He picked his pants up off the floor to look at them, their white surface stained with blood and semen, and he closed his eyes quickly, tossing them to the floor, suddenly feeling ill.

He climbed into the shower and scrubbed his body hard, still able to feel the man's hands on his shoulder and his bum, holding him down and not letting him move or cry out. He could hear the grunts and feel all of the pain and horror all over again. And so he washed and washed, and then he washed some more. He scrubbed until his skin was red and raw and he didn't think he could scrub anymore. He washed his bum carefully, gently cleaning over the area, knowing that he needed to clean it, but not wanting to hurt himself further.

He stood there, his skin raw and burning from the heat of the water, and his mind racing. He still felt dirty, and he came to the realization that no amount of washing was going to make him feel clean. When he got out of the shower, Louis was going to start asking questions. Unless of course he'd fallen back asleep. Harry really hoped that he had.

He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. The steam had fogged up the mirror, and at first Harry was grateful, because he really didn't want to have to look at himself right now. He was sure he looked a mess. But then he saw that the fog had only made his face look strange and distorted. Almost like a creature in a horror film. He quickly turned away, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to tell himself that he was perfectly normal, and that it was the man who had done this to him who was the monster. But part of him just didn't believe it. Part of him felt like it was his own fault. He was the one who had sneaked out late at night, all on his own.

He grabbed the towel off the rack and began to dry himself off. His whole body ached, and it hurt to the touch in a lot of areas when Harry ran the towel over it, so he gave up and decided to get dressed, before realizing he had no clean clothes.

He opened the door just a crack and peeked out, hoping that Louis would be asleep. To his dismay, however, Louis was fully awake and looking in his direction, almost as if he'd been watching the shower door the whole time Harry had been in there.

"Um...Could you...Could you hand me some fresh pants and some sweats, Lou? And maybe...Maybe a long sleeved shirt?"

"Harry, it's Summer. You don't even wear clothes to bed in the Winter. What do you need a long sleeved shirt for?"

Harry had noticed some bruising along his arms, most likely from his fall to the ground, and he wanted them covered. He wanted everything covered.

"Just feeling a bit cold. Do I need a reason?"

"You can just cuddle me." Louis smiled.

"I'd rather...I'd rather just have the clothes."

Louis' smile dropped from his face, and he grabbed a pair of sweats and fresh pants out of Harry's bag, as well as a long sleeved shirt that Harry knew he was going to feel far too hot in. But he'd rather be too hot than have Louis see the bruising and start worrying.

Louis handed him the clothes, and he closed the door from where he'd opened it just far enough to peek out and then take the clothes from Louis. He put them on slowly, muttering curse words under his breath when the pants rubbed up against his wounded, torn area.

He picked up his dirty clothes and balled them up, shoving them into the corner to deal with tomorrow. He'd probably just throw them out.

He walked slowly into the main bedroom area and climbed slowly into bed, settling down as far to his side of the bed as he could, as opposed to Louis, who had scooted much more towards the middle.

"You're really not going to cuddle me?" Louis asked softly.

"Not tonight, Lou."

Louis nodded, though his eyes were sad, and Harry felt horrible about what he was doing. But he just couldn't tell Louis. What if he didn't look at him the same way after this? What if he told the lads and the lads told their friends and their friends told the media? What if the next big news article was that Harry Styles had been raped?

Fuck. Fuck, that was the first time he'd actually thought those words. They made it feel a lot more real.

Louis took a while falling asleep, but he was still asleep faster than Harry, who laid awake as long as he thought was humanly possible. He wanted to sleep, but his mind was running wild, and he was only able to drift off when his eyelids became too heavy to hold open anymore.

000

The next morning Harry awoke to Louis shaking him lightly and a sharp pain in his bum, which he soon remembered the cause of, and was struck with the sudden urge to cry.

"Harry, we've got to talk."

"About what?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual, though his voice was even more hoarse than it had been the night before.

"You were having a bad dream. Yelling things like 'please get off of me', and 'no, please, stop, it hurts'. Harry...We need to talk about last night. I need to know what happened to you. You never let me look at your head and you've gotten blood on the pillow case. Something's very wrong and I need to know what. I'm your boyfriend, for God's sake. If you can't trust me, then who can you trust?"

"That's the thing, though. I'm not planning on telling anyone." Harry said firmly. "It's not like it's me not trusting you, Lou." He reasoned, hoping Louis would be satisfied with that and give up.

"Something bad happened to you last night and I won't rest until I know what." Louis said, a bit of an edge to his voice.

"...I can't say it." Harry said quietly.

"What d'you mean you can't say it?"

"I mean I can't bloody say it, Lou!" Harry yelled, covering his mouth with his hand as soon as he'd finished his sentence. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm sorry I keep yelling. I don't mean to." He could feel the tears collecting in his eyes again and blinked furiously to try to get them away.

"Harry, it's obviously really upsetting you if it's making you yell." Louis said softly, and Harry could tell he was trying not to cry. "Please just tell me, Hazza. Please."

Louis was sitting up fully in bed now, and Harry moved to sit up as well, but winced, and snuggle back down into the covers, lying on his side, trying to put as little friction on his backside as possible.

"You'll think I'm disgusting. You'll hate me." Harry said, so softly he could barely hear himself.

"I could never ever hate you, Harry. What on earth happened to you last night?"

Harry took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, "I couldn't sleep, so I went out for a walk. It was a nice walk. A little too warm for as late as it was, but we're in America now, so I suppose it's normal here. I keep forgetting we've gotten to America already. The year's flying by so quickly." Harry was aware that he was rambling. He was pretty sure it was his subconscious trying to stall. Maybe trying to come up with a lie of some sort. "I was on my way back, feeling rather sticky from sweat and the humidity, and I was taking back alleys, trying to stay hidden from anyone who might want to stop me and have a chat, because I was tired and warm and you know how I am, how I can't pass up a fan without giving them at least a little attention, if they aren't in a big group. So I was walking down this alley, just a block or two from here, and a man came up behind me. And he slammed me into a dumpster and tossed me to the ground, and then I heard him undoing his belt and I knew that...I knew what he...." Harry trailed off, breaking down into heart wrenching sobs.

"Oh, Harry." Louis said softly, lying down next to him and carefully wrapping his arms around him. "He...That's why you've been having trouble walking? And sitting up?"

Harry nodded through his tears, and Louis shushed him, bringing a hand up to smooth out his curls, causing Harry to wince, because he still had a rather painful bump and an open wound there.

And there was another thing that'd been completely fucked up. Now he'd told Louis and he still couldn't be comforted properly, because what was usually a comfort now only caused him more pain.

"Harry, take a deep breath, love." Louis coaxed. "C'mon, baby, stop crying. Just for a moment. We need to talk about this."

"Can't." Harry hiccuped.

So they just laid there for a while, and Louis held Harry as tightly as he could without hurting him. And for a moment he broke away to make a few calls and get the gig for tonight cancelled. And then he was getting barraged with calls, most likely asking what was going on, but he ignored them. Even put his phone on silent after a while. And he simply held Harry. Held him as if he would never let him go.

After Harry had cried himself out and caught his breath again, Louis kissed him on the forehead.

"You know you have to go to the doctor, right, love?"

Harry shook his head furiously, "I absolutely can't. Do you think I want this in the press?"

"Of course I don't think you want it in the press, and the hospital won't be able to tell the press. It's against the law, and they've got more important things to do with their time than sell stories to tabloids, Harry. You need to see a doctor, and you need to see one today."

Harry shook his head again, taking a few shuddering breaths.

"Did he at least...Did he...You know, did he use a-"

"No." Harry said quickly, cutting him off. "It was quick. There were no safety precautions, there was nothing to make sure I didn't feel as much pain as he could possibly cause. There was nothing, Louis."

"We need to get you to hospital right now then, Harry. You could have-"

"Don't tell me what I could have." Harry said. "You think I don't know that?"

"Of course I....Of course I know you know it, Harry. We've got to get you to hospital."

Harry shook his head sadly and whispered, "No."

"Get your slippers on. I'm taking you in, Harry. You need to be properly checked by a doctor. I can't check you for everything, Harry. We've got to go."

Louis got up, bringing Harry his slippers, but Harry shook his head. He'd been wearing those last night. He wanted to burn them, and he told Louis as much. Louis nodded, going and grabbing a pair of slip-on trainers and putting them on Harry's feet, helping him up and out of bed and to the door, helping him all the way to the car, not forcing him to put too much of a strain on his lower half.

He let him lie down in the backseat of the car, so he wouldn't have to sit on his bum for the whole ride, and Harry was thankful for that, although he wished Louis could be back there with him, holding his hand, rather than sitting up front driving.

He still didn't want to go to the doctor, but when Louis insisted on something, especially something like this, there was no use in arguing.

They drove along for a while, and Harry wasn't sure how Louis had found the hospital, but they were here now, and he'd have to go inside and tell a complete stranger about what had happened to him, and he'd hardly had the heart to tell Louis.

Louis helped him out of the car, supporting him all the way into the building, checking him in, and standing with him until a nurse came out to get him.

"Lou, come back there with me." Harry said urgently, gripping Louis' hand tightly. "Please."

"Are you sure? They might ask you some stuff about what happened. Are you sure you want me to hear?"

"I don't care if you hear it, I just need you back there."

"Okay." Louis nodded. Harry could see some hesitation in his eyes, and he wondered if maybe Louis didn't want to hear about what had happened. Harry couldn't be alone for this, though. He couldn't.

They followed the nurse back into the room, and she had Harry pee in a cup, and then she took some blood samples, and got a swab, which she said was to get the DNA of the man who attacked him, and Harry hoped he hadn't washed it all away in the shower the night before. She'd be giving it to the police when they arrived. She then asked some preliminary questions, and then she was gone, saying that the doctor would be in shortly.

Harry was in a hospital gown now, lying on one of those beds with the crinkly paper that makes too much noise every time you move, holding Louis' hand in a vice grip. He just wanted to cry. He wanted to go home.

Ten minutes ticked by, and the doctor hadn't shown up yet. Harry was beginning to get nervous, biting on the nails on the fingers of his free hand. Louis was looking at him, concern etched on his face, but every time he went to speak, Harry would shush him, and so Louis had just settled for remaining quiet, which Harry was glad of. He really didn't want to speak right now.

After twenty two minutes of nibbling on his fingernails and squeezing Louis' hand while staring at the clock, the doctor came in. He asked Harry some very invasive questions, and Harry looked down at the floor while answering all of them in as great of detail as he could manage. He looked at the floor, because looking at the doctor made him nervous, and looking at Louis would have made him feel awful. He knew Louis was going to be in a state of shock when he heard the extent of what had happened to Harry, and he just didn't want to see the look on his face. He couldn't bear it.

The doctor listened, and jotted things down, and then he decided he needed to take a thorough look at Harry's backside to see the extent of the damage there, and apparently decided that it wasn't too bad, because he declared that Harry wouldn't need any stitches or anything of the sort, which was a relief to Harry. But he told him he needed to be careful and take it easy.

Louis quietly asked how long the doctor thought it would be until Harry could perform again, and he was given the answer of ten days. Harry felt awful. They were going to disappoint so many fans, and all because of him.

The doctor left, and the nurse came back with some bandages and fixed up his head, telling him that all seemed to be well. And Harry had to force himself not to let out a humorless laugh, because nothing was well.

She informed him that there would be a sketch artist and a few policemen waiting out in the lobby to speak with him and see if they could get a good picture to help them find the man responsible, but she promised that it wouldn't be going on the news, and that if it ended up needing to, his name would be excluded from the report.

"Now." She began. "We have tested you for any STD's, and all is clear as of now." Louis and Harry let out a collective sigh at that. "But, as you probably know, they don't always show up right away. Sometimes it takes a while. You'll need to check back with us in a few months and we'll take another test just to be sure."

Harry nodded blankly. His head was patched up now, and the nurse was jotting down a few more things, and then he was being told that he was free to go speak to the police and sketch artist now.

They walked out into the waiting room, and Harry and Louis were taken into a room off to the side so that things would be private. Harry told the sketch artist everything he could remember about the man, and they ended up with a rather accurate drawing. Harry was glad, in that moment, that he'd gotten a good view of the man's face.

Harry told the police pretty much the same story he'd told the doctor, though with a few of the more medical issue type details left out, and the policeman shook his hand and told him to give him a call if he needed anything, and informed him that he'd be called with any progress they made. He was certain that with the DNA sample they'd been given, and the thorough description of the man's appearance, they'd be able to catch him with no trouble.

Harry thanked the man, and Louis wrapped a supporting arm around him as they made their way out to the car, Harry lying down in the backseat once more, not wanting to put any strain on his backside.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Louis told Harry to go lie down and promised him that he'd handle cancelling their shows for the next few days. He'd make the calls and inform everyone that it was doctor's orders, but he wouldn't say why. Harry was relieved at that.

All he wanted in the whole world was to be back in England in his and Louis' flat, rather than sleeping in some unfamiliar hotel bed for the next ten days, as he wasn't allowed to travel very far, he was sure.

He flopped down onto his belly on the mattress as Louis began making phone calls, and promptly fell asleep.

000

Three days passed, and Harry had slept the majority of the time. He didn't want to eat, because frankly he was afraid of what would happen if he needed to use the toilet. Things had been ripped in that area, and if he went to the bathroom there would surely be pain and blood and crying and he didn't want to go through that.

So he drank tea, and he slept. And slept and slept, and avoiding talking to Louis about any of it, and avoided the calls from the lads asking if he was okay. He avoided the calls from his mum and Gemma and he avoided even looking Louis in the eyes, because he was afraid Louis would look as broken as he felt, and he didn't want to see that.

So he slept.

One afternoon, he was lying in bed awake, because Louis had gone off somewhere. Probably to buy food or something, because they'd been there a few days now. He was watching the telly, lying on his belly, because that had become his default position.

Louis came into the room, and Harry quickly closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, and he knew Louis wanted to. It was just...He thought about it enough. It was practically all he thought about. The feeling of the man's hands when he grabbed him, or the noises he made, or how utterly useless Harry himself had felt when the man had spit on him afterwards. He thought about it, and he didn't want to have to talk about it, too.

"Harry, I know you're awake." Louis said.

Harry refused to open his eyes, or acknowledge Louis in any way.

"Honestly, Harry." Louis sighed. "Would you stop tuning me out? Stop avoiding me. I want to help you, but there's nothing I can do if you won't speak to me. I went to go talk to Zayn and he said-"

"You what?" Harry asked, his eyes flying open and looking up at Louis, angry and a bit horror stricken.

"I went to talk to Zayn." Louis said firmly.

"About what happened?" Harry asked feeling panicked.

"Yes, Harry. About what happened." Louis said softly, sitting down on the bed.

Harry quickly scooted as far away from him as he could, "You promised you wouldn't tell anyone. You promised it'd just be us and the doctors, Lou. You promised me!" Harry yelled, tears springing to his eyes.

Louis moved closer to Harry quickly, grabbing on to one of his hands and wiping his eyes, "Harry, it's alright. You know we can trust Zayn. I know you were worried about the press finding out, but you know Zayn is the first one to say that the press has got no business butting into our lives no matter how famous we are. And I told him how upset you were about it all, it's not like he's going to run off and tell the lads." Louis tried to comfort him. "But you wouldn't talk to me, and you won't eat and you hardly get out of bed and I was worried, Harry. I was worried and I didn't know what to do or how to help you, and I knew Zayn would."

"You don't get it." Harry said quietly, tears still spilling down his cheeks. "You just don't bloody get it, Lou."

"What don't I get? You won't talk to me, so of course I can't understand. Tell me how to help or what to do, Harry. I want you to feel better." Louis said, his eyes pleading.

"You shouldn't have told Zayn." Harry shook his head. "I shouldn't have told you. I should have just kept to myself like I'd planned."

"Why would that be any better?" Louis asked.

"Can't you see?" Harry asked him. "Can't you see how disgusting I feel, Lou? And the more people that know about it, the worse it is. I don't need everyone to know that I let myself get pushed to the ground and violated like some...Some disgusting piece of meat who can't even take care of himself. I'm not a baby, Lou. I should've been able to do something. But I couldn't stop him, and you know...You know you were the only person I'd ever been with like that before...And now that's ruined." He wiped at his eyes. "It's all ruined. Everything's ruined and I'm disgusting, and I don't need Zayn knowing how disgusting I am on top of everyone else I've had to tell."

Louis laid down on the bed so that his face was level with Harry's and let go of his hand, holding Harry's face between his palms, forcing him to look at him. Harry felt exposed and uncomfortable and he wanted to look away.

"Listen to me, Harry. None of this is your fault, and no one thinks you're disgusting. You're still the beautiful boy I fell in love with three years ago, and you'll always be that to me. No one can take that away from you no matter what they do. When I told Zayn, the first words out of his mouth were 'I hope he's okay. I hope he doesn't blame himself, and I hope you both know that if I see that twat on the street I'll beat the living shit out of him'. So see? He doesn't think you're disgusting. He thinks the pig who did this to you is disgusting, and so do I. But you aren't disgusting, Harry. He didn't make you disgusting. He couldn't have done, because you'll always be beautiful."

Somewhere during Louis' speech, Harry had begun to cry even harder, his whole body shaking with the force of his sobs.

"I'm so lucky I have you, Lou." Harry managed to say between gasping breaths and little hiccuping sobs. "I would've just...I would've wallowed away in silence if you hadn't made me tell you and even after I told you I was just...I was tearing myself up. I'm still tearing myself up, Lou. I can't stop remembering and I just want to forget, Louis. Please help me forget."

Louis kissed the tears away from both of Harry's cheeks and grabbed on to both of his hands, lacing their fingers together.

"Can I tell you what Zayn said now then?"

Harry hiccuped out another sob, but nodded, "Yeah."

"He said you need to see a therapist, Harry. He said you probably won't ever want to talk to me about it, because just hearing what you said at the doctor's was hard for both of us. But he said you need to talk about how you felt and how you feel. And he'd offer to talk to you, but he knows you wouldn't want him to know, and he's not so sure he'd be able to help you. He said we can probably work out a way for you to speak to a therapist while we're on tour. Like phone calls or video chats or something. He says you might say you don't want to, but deep down you'll know it's best."

Harry had been listening closely, breathing deeply, trying to stop his sobs, "Zayn's smart." He muttered. "I don't...I don't want to, Lou. I know Zayn's right about it all, but I don't want to tell someone how I felt when it happened. I don't want to relive it and talk about it until I feel better, because what if I never feel better?"

"You will feel better, Harry. If you talk to a therapist they can help you work it out and figure out how to cope and what to do when you start thinking about it. Because I know you will keep thinking about it, and I'm not equipped to help you, Harry. I wish I could. But you'll talk to a therapist and find out ways to stop the thoughts or make them less horrible and you'll feel better and you'll be okay. Everything's going to be okay." Louis said softly, kissing Harry's forehead.

"Okay." Harry nodded slowly. "Okay, yeah. I'll...Okay."

"Zayn said he'd help me find someone for you." Louis smiled. "Would you rather have a man or a woman?"

"Erm...A woman, I think."

Louis nodded, "I figured. Zayn's already making calls. He's going to ring me when he's found someone."

"Tell him thank you for me when he calls? I really do appreciate both of you. I'm...I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, Louis. I just...I was afraid you'd be disappointed in me, or you wouldn't look at me the same."

"Of course, love." Louis said, squeezing his hands gently. "I could never be disappointed in you over something like this. The only thing I'm disappointed about is that you've been letting yourself waste away, hiding in your own head for four days. I'll never stop looking at you the way I did when I first met you, Harry. I'll never lose that sense of wonder, because you get more wonderful every day. This is just a hurdle for you to jump over, and then you'll be on your way again, on to the next wonderful thing I know you're going to do."

"I love you, Lou. I really really love you."

"I love you, too, Harry. Forever, and through everything." Louis assured him, leaning in and giving him a gentle peck on the lips.

000

That night, Zayn called with the names of a few female therapists he'd found that did long distance sessions and were willing to work with Harry. Harry and Louis looked them up together, and they decided on a nice woman who was in her mid thirties and her name was Debra. She worked especially with victims of rape and abuse, and she seemed to be rather well liked, so Louis called her, because Harry was nervous, and they worked out all the details, and Harry's first session was tomorrow morning.

000

A few more days passed, and Harry was healing nicely. He was able to eat and go to the bathroom and sit on his bum with little to no pain, and Louis was cuddling him more than usual and making him more tea than he could drink, and so things were nice in that way.

They were getting back to touring tonight, and Harry felt awful for the way he'd fucked up their schedule, but he was so glad to get to be able to perform again.

He'd spoken to Debra twice already, as they had decided that he needed to speak with her three times a week, because she felt that he was in a rather bad place and needed a lot of help.

Zayn had been spending a lot of time in Harry and Louis' room recently, because he wanted to check up on Harry and make sure he was doing alright, and he had a knack for telling funny stories and keeping Harry's mind on things other than the man's ugly face and clammy hands, so Harry liked having him around.

000

They were all gathered backstage getting ready to perform, and it was the first time Harry had seen Niall and Liam since...Since it happened. They'd been asking a bunch of questions at first, but Louis and Zayn had told them, in the most polite way they could manage, to kindly fuck off, and so they had, settling for giving him reassuring hugs.

Louis held Harry's hand up until the moment they walked out on stage, right before which he kissed him on the cheek and told him to get out there and go be amazing like he knew he could.

Harry was smiling widely, and when he looked out into the audience he saw hundreds of signs with things such as "Get well soon, Harry" and "Hope you're okay, Hazza xx" written on them, and he was so glad to have fans that supported him so wholly even when they didn't even know what was wrong.

The concert went well and Harry was able to goof off with the lads, though with a little less vigor than he was used to, as he didn't want to hurt himself on stage. That would be quite an unfortunate and uncomfortable situation for all.

The lads all got on the bus that night after the show, and they piled onto a big bed, all snuggling together, because none of them had seen each other much when they'd been cooped up in the hotel. Well, at least, none of them had seen Harry or Louis much. Harry didn't know what the other three had done, aside from when Zayn was in his and Louis' room.

They were piled on the bed, Louis on Harry's left and Zayn on Harry's right, Liam sprawled out above them, his head by Louis' and his feet by Zayn's head, and Niall was snuggled up at the bottom of the large bed, his arms wrapped tightly around Zayn's feet, which made Harry giggle a bit.

And for the first night since it had happened, Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face, and he didn't wake up in the middle of the night from a bad dream.

000

A few weeks passed, and the lads were touring fine, and Harry's bum was completely healed, and he wasn't having flashbacks every single day anymore. He was only talking to Debra one to two times a week instead of three, and she'd given him some helpful tips.

Whenever he got too overwhelmed by the thoughts and feelings, he was to do something to distract himself. Talk to Louis or Zayn about them, just to clear them out of his head. Go out to the cinema with someone. Bake cookies or other sweet treats (that was his favorite thing to do, when need be), read a book, play FIFA. All in all, things were working. They were helping.

Debra had talked to Harry a lot about how he'd felt, physically and emotionally, on the night of what she liked to refer to as "the incident", because after the first time she'd said the word "rape" Harry had completely shut down and not spoken for the rest of the session.

She told him that what he was feeling was normal, but that he couldn't blame himself, because these things happen sometimes, and even the strongest, bravest people can't stop them. She said that she knows it isn't right when these things happen, and it isn't fair. But it did happen, and Harry needed to learn how to cope with that, and he needed to stop blaming himself.

She reassured him that he wasn't disgusting or a bad person or a failure. She told him that even though Louis technically wasn't the only person he'd been with in such a way anymore, he still was the only one spiritually, and that if Harry kept reminding himself that, he should feel okay about it. And he did.

He was feeling a lot better. Day by day, he was feeling better.

000

Three months passed, and the boys were on a month long break from tour.

Harry and Louis were sitting in their flat, drinking tea and watching Grease together, because it had come on the telly, and Louis had jumped up and down and told Harry they had to watch it, and Harry had easily agreed.

Harry's cell phone rang, so he muted the telly and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Harry Styles?"

"Yes?"

"It's officer Scarlett, from a few months back. We've found your attacker. Took us ages to catch him, but he matches your description, and the DNA test has just come back. It's a match." The man on the other line cleared his throat a bit. "He's going to jail, and he won't be getting out for a long time, Mr. Styles."

"Thank you." Harry said. "Thank you so much."

"No need to thank me. Just doing my job."

"Still...Thank you."

"You're welcome." The man said, sounding slightly uncomfortable, but pleased all the same. "Call if you ever need anything."

"I will. Bye, officer."

"Goodbye."

Harry hung up the phone and turned to look at Louis who had been watching him intently through the whole conversation.

"They caught him." Harry said quietly. "Lou, they caught him." A bright grin spread across his face.

"They've caught the bastard?" Louis asked excitedly, and Harry nodded. "They've caught the bastard! Yes!" He picked up his phone, and Harry knew he was calling Zayn. He heard Zayn let out a groggy 'H'lo?' on the other end, and Harry laughed because it was the middle of the afternoon and certainly no time to be sleeping. "They've caught the bastard! The police have caught him and he can't hurt anyone like he did Harry ever again!"

Harry listened as Louis and Zayn had a short conversation which was slightly comical and made him smile, and then Louis hung up the phone, hurling himself into Harry's arms and kissing him all over his face, muttering 'They've caught the bastard!' over and over against his flesh, causing Harry to giggle.

Harry couldn't stop smiling. He was only speaking to Debra once every two weeks, he was fully healed, he'd gone to the doctor's as soon as they'd gotten back to London, and it had been long enough that they could confirm that he was free of any STD's. He wasn't having nearly as many flashbacks, and he knew how to cope with them when he did get them. He didn't have bad dreams anymore, and Louis loved him just as much as he always had, if not more, and Harry felt the same way about him.

"Call Debra!" Louis yelled brightly. "Tell her the good news!"

Harry did as he was told, and they had a short conversation, in which she told him how happy she was for him and congratulated him on his progress so far. And then she said something which made Harry beam from ear to ear.

"I think you're done with your therapy sessions, Harry." She said, and Harry could hear the smile in her voice. "You're doing so well, and now that your attacker has been put away, I'm sure you feel much safer, am I correct?"

Now, Harry had known all along that there was no chance that the man would ever find him again. It wasn't as if he'd been seeking Harry out, and it wasn't as if he would now that it was over, and Harry was probably never going to be in that particular part of that city ever again. But still, he had felt a sense of unease that the man who had hurt him so badly was still freely walking the streets.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're correct."

"Then I am officially ending our sessions, Harry. You still have my number and you can feel free to call me if you're falling back into a bad place, but you are no longer required to call and talk to me for an hour at scheduled times."

"That's great. That's brilliant." Harry smiled. "Thank you, Debra. I appreciate everything that you've done for me."

"Of course, Harry. I'll be speaking to you, I hope. Just for a little hello sometimes. You're a lovely young man, Harry."

"Yeah. I'll check in sometime." Harry smiled. "Bye, Debra."

"Goodbye."

Harry hung up, and Louis threw his arms around him again, kissing him fiercely on the lips, and then pulling back slowly.

"They've caught the bastard and you're done with therapy and you're happy again and I'm happy for you and I love you so much, Harry. I told you you'd make it through this and come out more wonderful than you already were and that's exactly what you've done. You're so strong."

"Couldn't have done it without you and Zayn, I don't think." Harry smiled, pecking Louis on the lips. "I love you so much. I love Zayn, too, but not in the same way."

"Better not be."

"Of course it isn't." Harry smiled, kissing his boyfriend, and smiling against his lips.

Everything was back to normal. Or, as normal as it could be after something so traumatic. Things were changed, obviously. They had to be. They couldn't stay the same. But Harry was happy and Louis was happy and they were happy together, and that's what mattered.

And that night, for the first time since the incident, Louis and Harry made love, and it was the most beautiful thing that Harry had ever experienced. Louis moved slowly and lovingly and whispered words of adoration into his skin, and it was as if he was finally being cleansed of the last bit of that awful experience he'd had to endure.

Louis came inside him, filling him up, and washing away the feeling of being used, and replacing it with the feeling of being loved, and Harry couldn't stop smiling.

They fell asleep with their arms wrapped around each other, and promises to love each other more each day, and Harry couldn't think of a better way this fiasco could have ended.

Louis was with him when times got rough, and Harry was certain he'd never leave.

No matter what, it was him and Louis, together until the end of time.


End file.
